Winter Nightmares
by RedKingofCake
Summary: This is what happens when I get bored and listen to halloween music... I think to myself, "Hey, let's do a scary thing!" Then when I proofread the finished product I never sleep that night. So here's my ideas on subconscious fear, oh, and monsters. Enjoy!


Iceland sat at the window, looking out into the coldly lit world. The night was almost pitch black except for the flurry of snow.

An almost deathly silence was broken by the chilling howls of the wind.

The house was chilly; Iceland hugged the blanket wrapped around him closer to his body, leaving his face peering out at the world.

He felt like he was waiting.

The sudden storm only made him more anxious. The flicker of the firelight in the corner of his vision made him jump.

Iceland's frightened eyes scanned the room again; the shapes of his dresser, bed, and rocking chair looking like foreign shapes or beasts for a split second.

Iceland settled back into the chair, he shouldn't be frightened of such things anymore. He was grown up now wasn't he?

Norway didn't think so though, and because of that Iceland wasn't allowed to live on his own yet. But he didn't mind, the house felt less empty with two.

Iceland got up from the chair and crossed the room to the door, keeping the blanket snug around his shoulders but allowing it to fall off his head.

Iceland pushed the door open a crack and looked down the dark hall. The house was pitch dark, no light came from under Norway's door, he must've gone to bed.

But Iceland couldn't sleep, for fear of his dreams...

He'd been having nightmares for a week now, and they only got stranger and more vivid as time went by.

He had tried to talk to Norway about them, but his brother had only said they were childish things, that they would fade and there was nothing to worry about.

Iceland had believed the same, till the troll entered these hauntings...

He was always running in these dreams, or unable to move while staring death in the face.

There was always a blurry something that was poised to kill him. But Iceland would always wake up before he was struck.

For a while he didn't know what the creature was, until it appeared one night in a somewhat better focus.

The troll.

He shuddered.

For two days Iceland had done his best to stay awake, but it was hard. He was exhausted.

Iceland closed the door and came back to the window, then stood by the fire, then to the window again. Pacing like a restless spirit with his blanket trailing across the hardwood floor.

After an hour or more, Iceland lay awake on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His eyes were betraying him, closing whenever he wasn't concentrating hard enough.

"Why am I so afraid?" Iceland wondered aloud, "It's not real... But it's scary... I can't fall asleep... But I guess... it wouldn't...hurt..."

Iceland felt a heaviness seep into his body and he fell almost instantly asleep...

That night's dream was worse than any that Iceland had before. He was in the house. It was dark, cold, and there was no sound but his panting breath. A single candle lit a tiny circle around him while the rest waited in shadow.

Iceland tried to calm the pounding in his chest. Had he been running? What from **this** time?

Then there were the footsteps... Great, crashing footsteps, like something heavy coming toward him. Eyes peered out from the dark, a cold mist of breath.

He couldn't see it. Iceland didn't need to, he tried to run but found he was chained fast to the walls and the floor.

Iceland yelled, screamed, and tried to break the chains holding him in a desperate attempt to get free. The beast came closer, and then the candle blew out, leaving Iceland blind and helpless.

The eyes, those horrible eyes, glared down at him with evil and contempt. There was a sickening crack as a club was brought down, and Iceland felt nothing except for the fact that he was lying in a pool of his own warm blood...

Iceland awoke with a start; eyes wide awake but his body refusing to move. He tried to calm his breathing, slow his heart down and calm himself down.

This was bad. He had never actually **died** in a dream before. Iceland knew that it could only mean something... something terrible.

When he calmed Iceland noticed something was wrong. Besides the fact that he had been sleeping in his clothes, there was something else. A draft, Iceland could feel the winter wind coursing through the house.

And there was something else, a stench, like rotten milk and fish, and...Blood...

Iceland sat up but bumped his head on something above him. Something leaning over him...

Iceland looked up quickly and stifled a cry.

There was a troll.

A big and hairy and huge and ugly troll. With long arms like an ape that ended in clawed hands, a bony nose and jutting tusks like a wild pig.

But those eyes, just like his dream, they were red and glowing and evil. He was frozen, couldn't move.

It sneered at Iceland, bearing its teeth and raising its claws.

Iceland finally broke through the creature's spell of fear and leaped off the bed and under the beast's legs.

The troll snapped the bed in half and when it came up with a handful of stuffing and blankets instead of flesh, it gave a roar.

Run. That's all Iceland could do was run. But the troll could run faster.

Iceland slid down the stair railing and headed for the back door, but the troll appeared right in front of him, grinning with its nasty yellow teeth.

"A dream," Iceland thought, "This has to be a dream, this is only a dream!"

The troll swiped at Iceland with its claws but he rolled away, grabbing the back door handle. The door was locked. Iceland fumbled with it but couldn't get it open.

The troll grabbed Iceland by his leg, dragged him to the ground and lifted him over its great ugly head.

"This is it," Iceland thought, "It's goanna eat me, I'll either wake up, or be dead."

Then a shot rang out and the troll roared in pain, dropping Iceland.

Iceland could hear Norway's voice, "Stay away from my brother!" Norway stood on the stairs, holding a hunting gun, "Move Iceland!" he shouted, "MOVE!"

The troll didn't take long to recover, and only got angrier; it wanted to tear Norway to shreds. But the hunger in its belly was too much to ignore, and it thought two meals were better than one.

Iceland watched as Norway shot the troll again, but it simply ignored the wounds and came charging at him.

"Just die!" Norway yelled.

Iceland was frozen again, everything seemed to move slower as Iceland saw the troll knock the gun away from Norway, and run him through with its tusks.

Blood splattered against the floor and the walls, Norway coughed blood onto the floor and his body slumped forward on the creature's jutting teeth.

Iceland wanted to scream, shout; tear the world apart to get to his brother!

But he couldn't.

He sat there on the floor in shock, tears rolling down his cheeks, "Norway!" he finally shouted, "Norway no!"

The troll threw Norway's body off its tusks, and turned to Iceland, flashing a bloody grin. It licked the red drips off its face with a grossly long tongue and lurched forward.

"No..." Iceland backed up; his hands met the wall, "No! GO AWAY!" his shouts turned to sobs and he tripped over his feet, landing hard on the ground.

The troll loomed over him, eyes ablaze, claws outstretched. Iceland tried to roll away, but found he couldn't move. The troll's gaze had paralyzed him.

Then the claws struck downward, but Iceland didn't feel it. There was nothing but a cold sensation through his body.

Iceland fell against the floor, into a puddle of red. Then falling ever further down, through red, to black...

Iceland woke with a start; he went ridged against the back of the chair. Sweat rolling down his face, heart pounding, his eyes looked around franticly, scanning his bedroom for any sign of the troll.

Norway had his hand on Iceland's shoulder, worry written on his face.

"Iceland, you were yelling, what's wrong?"

Iceland just looked at Norway with both relief and fear.

"Nothing," he reassured his older brother, "Just a bad dream, it was nothing..."

Norway looked at him skeptically, then patted Iceland's shoulder, "You should get some sleep," he said, "Don't worry about dreams," Norway kissed Iceland's forehead, "Good night." he left the room.

"Good night," Iceland said softly as he watched the door close.

He got up from the chair by the window and walked to his bed, tucking himself under the covers. Then Iceland heard a noise, like heavy breathing.

He looked around quickly but saw nothing there. Then Iceland spotted them...

Footprints...

Bloody footprints... Heading from the window toward his bed.

Iceland looked at them carefully and saw there were **his **footprints! Iceland stood up and saw his clothes were torn at his chest, blood running down in a steady trickle.

Iceland couldn't breath for a moment, then heard it again...

Right behind him...

The troll...


End file.
